Blades of Glory
by BadaBingxBadaBoom
Summary: Bella,Rosalie,and Alice are skaters with a fiery hate for hockey players. When the rink they train at is forced to rent the ice to a hockey team, the girls are willing to try and be civil. But are they willing to lose their hearts in the process? AH,AU.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a random idea that popped into my head while i was watching _Ice Princess_ with my friends. I hope you like it!! Reviews are welcomed!**

**Disclaimer: SM owns the wonderful world of _Twilight_. *Runs off and cries***

**Lots of love,**

**{--Inky--}**

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Chapter One: The Not-So-Great News

I've been skating since I was a little girl. Ever since my older cousin Aimee was home one weekend and made me watch the Ladies Nationals with her, I've been hooked. There's just something about how the ice beneath your feet and the little bit of wind on your face can make you feel as though you're flying.

I met Alice Brandon when we were twelve, and taking the same skating program. I can remember wondering if Alice was supposed to be there, because of her size. When I asked her how old she was, she acted all offended but told me, and we've been inseparable ever since. Rosalie Hale was thirteen that year, and both Alice and I were scared of her. She was, even then, a million light-years more beautiful than anyone else in the room, and had an attitude that could put Hitler off course. She was put into our class by her parents to 'learn some respect' and was in dire need of a friend. Of course, she never actually told anyone that, but Alice knew. Like she always knows.

When I turned fourteen, my mother bought me my first new pair of skates. Up until then, I had been using my aunt's old pair from her glory days, and whatever I could find at garage sales and such. I was ecstatic, and I spent the whole day out on the little pond behind our house, just breaking them in. I don't think my feet have ever been as sore as they were that night.

Alice's parents were incredibly supportive of her sport, always buying her new costumes, and taking her to the rink every other day. She was enrolled in Frederica Cole's Skating School, and was learning triple salchows before Rosalie and I even considered skating competitively. Rosalie joined Alice not long after that, and her parents were just happy that she was doing something productive, instead of wasting her Friday nights at drunken parties. They were more than glad to fund her hobby.

My mother wasn't as thrilled about me wanting to skate. She didn't approve of the time it would take, which she thought I could be using to study and bring my grade point average up, or the costumes, which she called slutty and revealing, and should never have been introduced to impressionable young girls like myself. That didn't deter me. I spent every school night down at the rink, watching Alice and Rose practice, wishing I was out there with them.

I finally got my wish on my mother's second wedding, when her new husband, Phil, convinced her to let me join Alice and Rosalie's class. My mother, Renée, begrudgingly allowed it, and I was sent to a ballet school, where I learned the semantics of grace and poise. Frederica accepted me, once she had given a thorough evaluation of my potential and current skill, and she set me up with my own coach and choreographer, Anne Walker.

My first lesson was disastrous. I hadn't been on the ice in a serious setting in at least two years, and I was a little rusty. My spins were too slow, and I couldn't land even the simplest jump to save my life. Anne was doubtful of me, and I'm sure she questioned Frederica's judgment on my talent. That was a Friday.

If you were to drive down our road that weekend, you would see a skinny little girl in an oversized sweater and mittens, twirling non-stop behind the house. I was out on my pond all weekend, doing spirals and spins, toe loops and waltzes, hoping to God that I would be better for Anne come Monday.

I was. I handled every movement with ease, and I was where I needed to be all the time. Anne was impressed, and I could feel myself glowing. Pretty soon I was moved out of the basics, up to the level where Alice and Rosalie were. I was put to doing flying camel spins, and reverse spirals next, and I mastered the lutz in a few short weeks.

I was a girl possessed. My life revolved around the rink. I spent almost every waking minute of my day there. If I wasn't at the rink, I was over at Alice's house, with her and Rose, going over routines and choreography. I spent little time studying and socializing. My grades dropped a little, but not enough to make me worry. Renée worried though. She said skating was taking away from my high school education, and that I needed to focus more on my homework and social life, and less on the ice. She made me back off to ice time three nights a week on school days, and one day on the weekend. Alice and Rosalie started dragging me along to parties and mall trips, and I was introduced to make-up. They attacked my closet, tearing up my hoodies, and replacing them with skirts.

I was able to save the parts of my wardrobe that made me, me. Bella Swan. I refused to get rid of my cargos and old torn up jeans, and my many warm, woollen sweaters that Grandma Marie had made me over the years. I kept my sneakers and t-shirts, and I rescued all my toques, wool leg-warmers, and fingerless gloves from the garbage where Rosalie had thrown them. I even managed to sneak in my Doc Martens and my combat boots.

Alice has a theory that a skater should feel glamorous both on and off the ice. I don't agree with it. For me, being on the ice in the sequined dresses we wear is a novelty. I feel like a girl, and that's part of what differs figure skating from the rest of the day. It makes the experience that much more special. I want to be able to go back to being tomboyish Bella when I have the option, if only to make my routines better. I always feel that if I look good, then I have to be good, just to justify how I look to the crowds.

Rosalie agrees with Alice, taking any and every chance to flaunt her good genes. She is almost always in a miniskirt and heels, with a French manicure to match, and her blonde hair is always the essence of perfection. The girl radiates confidence, and every other female anywhere near her (including me) takes a major self-confidence hit when they see her. She can be a total bitch when you make her mad, but she really is an amazing person. I'm glad that she's on my side, because I've sent the damage she can do, and it's not pretty.

Alice, on the other hand, has always been different, but she's so likeable that no one really cares. She wears the wildest colors and the brightest prints, and she never matches. She always has her short, inky black hair spiked up in every direction, and her nails are always painted lime green, no matter what she has on that day. She's sunny and happy, even when we have ridiculously early in-the-morning practices. Some days, you just want to smack her and tell her to frown once in a while. I know I have. On many occasions.

And then there's me. Compared to Rose and Alice, I'm nothing special. Sure, I have the long, wavy, dark brown hair that some girls die for, and the perfect ivory complexion that no cover-up can compare to, but it's not as great as some people think it's cracked up to be. I always look pale, and I can never seem to get a tan. My eyes are a dull chocolate brown, like coffee colored, which I hate because it looks so blank, and my curves are a bit too obscene for me. Alice always tells me that I look beautiful, and that I should just embrace my body. There are girls out there who would die to have the B36 cup that I do.

No matter what she says, I still think my boobs are too big for me.

And Alice can talk. Only someone with a waist as thin as hers and such an adorable, innocent look about her would be able to pull off the two-tone blue halter skating dress with the flower appliqué, on and off the ice.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and completed my warm-up laps, almost mechanically. Anne wasn't quite here yet, so I had a little free time to burn. Over in the far left corner of the rink, Rosalie and her trainer, Joey, were working on her cantilever spin. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, but it was fanning out underneath her as she spun. Joey was chanting something at her, and she adjusted her position somewhat, making her rotations a little smoother. When she came up, ending her spin, Joey was clapping cheerfully for her, and Rose was smiling, obviously pleased with her progress.

Alice was practicing her double axelin the middle of the ice on her own, so I glided over to help her. Sometimes it's easier to fix your mistakes when someone else is there telling you what's wrong.

"Hey Al. Need a spotter?" I asked, stopping just out of her path. She looked up at me briefly before throwing herself into the air in another double lutz. As she came down to land, she messed up her footing and fell, hitting the ice hard. I hurried over to help her, wondering if she was okay. She had landed oddly on her right ankle, and she might have sprained it.

I offered her a hand up, and she took it, all the while offering me assurances that she was okay.

Alice grinned at me. "I think I could use a spotter, actually." I nodded, and moved so I could have the best viewpoint of her jump. She circled back around, using the time to gain herself some speed, and picked, gliding gracefully into the air. She managed the two and a half turns required for a double axel, and as she started coming towards the ice again, she moved her left foot too far out, throwing her center of balance off. Once she had picked herself up off the ice, dusting the snow off her dress, I spoke up.

"You're moving your left foot. When you come down, you let it float outwards, and then you can't land right." Alice nodded, thinking. "Try holding your knees together more; it might keep that foot in a little farther." Alice nodded again.

"Okay. Watch this one," she ordered, taking another go at it. This time, though, she held her foot in the right spot, sticking her landing, grinning like an idiot. She moved farther towards the boards, not bothering to stop herself. I marvelled at how easily she could keep herself on a path while going backwards. Every movement was sinuous and right, and I was almost envious of her for it.

"She's good isn't she?" A voice asked right next to my shoulder. I jumped, stumbling a bit when my pick caught on the ice. When I righted myself, I saw Andrew, Alice's trainer, standing there, hands clasped behind his back and feet spread wide. He was watching Alice, who had started doing double axels across the rink with ease, now that she could land them clean. I followed his gaze and watched Alice too, for a while.

"She's going to do well," Andrew commented in his deep voice, and I had to nod. Alice was going to go far. She was everything a skater needed to be: graceful, light, nimble, and charismatic. No matter what routine she did, you could always see the passion that drove her forward and the excitement in her eyes.

The heavy metal doors that lead to the lobby of the building slammed shut, and we all, including Rosalie and Joey, turned to see who had entered the room. Frederica Cole herself was striding down the steps, followed closely by Anne, who had her skates slung over her shoulder. We watched the two ladies progress across the room, in front of the stands and finally down the steps to the ice.

Frederica gestured to us with her hands to come in closer, so the five of us made our way towards the head instructor. Once we were all assembled in front of her, Frederica started to talk.

"Ladies, as you know, we have one of the top-notch rinks in the area. We are proud of our nearly flawless facilities. But I am sad to admit that this rink has become a bit of a burden."

Immediately, Alice's hand shot up. She didn't wait for Frederica to call on her; she just started talking in a rush.

"Miss Frederica," she began, worry coloring her tone.

"Please, call me Freddie. You girls are as good as my own."

"Freddie," Alice corrected. "You're not going to shut down the place are you? I mean, Nationals are only a few months away, and I really think that—"Alice never got a chance to finish.

"Miss Brandon, I can assure you that the club will not be closing anytime soon," Frederica reassured us. A collective breath was exhaled. "As I was saying, the upkeep of the ice, and the entire building, has been a bit of a problem lately. The income I am getting is not enough, even with you girls taking private training from the hired instructors." She nodded her head towards Joey, Andrew, and Anne, "I can't seem to find the money to pay my dues. But I believe that I've found a solution to that." Frederica paused there. I was scared of what she was going to say. Was she going to up the price for private lessons? I sincerely hoped not. Between Phil's monthly donations to my fund and my part-time job, I was barely able to afford this dream. Add that to the cost of sharpening for my blades, material for competition and practice dresses, and gas money, and I would have to drop out of school and get another job.

Renée would not be happy about that.

"I've rented out our ice to a local hockey team that needed a place to hold practices. They will have scheduled times for the practices, and I have personally made sure that those times will not interfere with your sessions. Life here at the rink will go on as usual. Alright?" Frederica smiled, obviously pleased that no one was saying a thing about her plan. In truth, it was mostly because the three of us were shocked out of our minds. A hockey team? On our ice?

No. No way. How could Frederica do this to us? This wasn't fair. Frederica Cole's Skating club was for _figure skaters_. Not hockey players.

It didn't help that I was a bit biased about hockey players. Growing up, every kid who wanted to skate, whether for fun, or to practice, went to the public ice downtown. There were kids from all over town there, laughing, pushing, and racing. While I was working on my spin, one particular group of boys would be playing hockey with sticks and a makeshift puck. They were rowdy and loud, and had no respect for anyone else. A couple of them thought it was funny to go as fast as possible towards some of the younger girls, stopping mere inches away from hitting them, spraying snow all over them and scaring them half to death.

I was generally their main target, mostly because I was small and kept to myself. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly fond of those boys, and the chances that they ruined my view on hockey players anywhere were incredibly high.

So, the very thought of having to share my ice, my sanctuary from the hell that is the rest of the world, was entirely repulsive. And infuriating.

I don't' remember the rest of practice. It went by in a blur, and all I could think about was whether I would meet this team on accident, coming out of the change rooms or something. I really hoped not.

Rosalie and Alice were waiting for me outside the change room door after we were finished. They were both dressed up, as usual, making my cargo pants and black tank-top look incredible shabby. I had pulled my hair into a quick ponytail, not wanting to bother with brushing it out, and I was sporting my usual smoky-eye look and fingerless gloves. We started down the hallway, my sneakers scuffing the concrete floor, whereas Rose's stilettos clicked with every step; Alice made hardly any sound, skipping along in her electric blue ballerina flats.

"This is total bullshit," Rosalie was saying, clearly not happy about Frederica's idea. "I mean, this place is huge. There are at least ten different rooms no one uses anymore, plus an entire wing. Why doesn't she just quit heating those? It would save money on the power bill."

"And keep those stupid hockey jocks out of our rink," Alice muttered darkly.

"This is not good, my friends. There is no way that this is going to end well. It's nearly impossible," I observed. Alice cocked her head, as if to say"hell yeah, you're right", and Rosalie just glared at me.

"No duh, B. God, this is stupid!" She screamed the last part, and it echoed off the walls. I shook my head at her theatrics and adjusted the strap of my duffel bag higher onto my shoulder. Sometimes Rosalie is nearly impossible to deal with. We have learned that as long as she has a steady supply of Rocky Road ice cream and a chance to rant, she can get past almost anything.

And something was telling me we were going to need a lot of ice cream to get past this one.

Alice and I stayed quiet, not wanting to say something to upset Rose any more. It also gave us time to think. What were we going to do about this? There isn't another decent rink, with coaches, for miles from here, and it really will benefit us in the long run. Frederica has to be able to afford to keep her club open, and we need it open so we can skate. I didn't say any of this out loud though. It would probably set Rose off. Again.

We turned the last corner before the lobby and were met with raucous laughter, and it was definitely not from a girl. I looked over at Alice, who shrugged, then looked at Rosalie, who had her heavily mascara-ed eyes narrowed almost into slits.

"Guess who has the ice right after us," she hissed. Realization dawned on me. Next to me, Alice gasped, her small hand flying to her mouth and her eyes wide. Rosalie had her head held high, and was striding purposefully towards the doors. I sighed, and prayed that she wouldn't go over and deck one of them for a stupid reason, like breathing next to her. I didn't think Alice and I could restrain her if she decided to pick a fight.

Damn hockey players.

With my hand wrapped almost painfully around the strap of my bag, I ventured out into the lobby, Alice right behind. There were guys everywhere, sitting on the few chairs scattered on the floor, leaning against the walls, and lounging on the floor. I wrinkled my nose at that. The floors here were nasty; why would anyone want to lay on them?

A couple of them called out to me as I passed, but I ignored them. Chances are, they were just being jerks and it only encourages them when you acknowledge them. I noticed there were four guys a little off to the side from the other groups, and I wondered about that. They didn't seem to be participating in harassing anyone and everyone who happened to walk by, instead talking only with each other, occasionally smiling. Rosalie was almost to the exit when one of the louder guys caught her arm. She spun around to face him, nostrils flaring, shaking his hand off her arm as if it were a disease. He pretended to be affronted. I picked up my pace, hoping to catch her before she gets herself into trouble.

"Awe, come on. Don't be like that," the guy was saying to her. 'I know you want to." He leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and she slapped him clean across the face. He raised one hand up to the now red skin, and managed to glower at Rosalie at the same time. He opened his mouth to say something, but I was there and cut him off.

"Why don't you go back to the prehistoric times? I'm sure your Neanderthal brothers are missing you." I was mildly shocked at how easily the insults and sarcastic remarks to me. Sure, I had been a lot more forward since I'd met Rosalie, who taught me to speak out for myself, but I still tended to stick to the shadows, waiting in the wings to smooth out Rosalie's ruffled feathers or console Alice when she gets herself worked up over nothing.

"Or not. I wouldn't blame them if they were glad you were gone," Rose continued smoothly, never lessening her glare on the guy. He looked back and forth between us, his mouth open comically. Just then Alice skipped up, stopping herself and Rosalie's right elbow, joining in.

"I bet you don't know what a Neanderthal is. I wouldn't be surprised," she said sadly, shaking her head in mock disappointment. The guy recovered by then, and decided to try for rapier wit.

"You must be those _figure skaters_," he sneered the word, mocking it, "that the old bat told us not to disturb on the ice." I could feel my blood boiling. Who did he think he was, insulting Frederica Cole, one of the greatest competitive skaters of her generation, and maybe even ours, so blatantly?

Before I could retort back to him, he continued.

"You probably think you're all that, with your fancy costumes and toe picks. That's a lie," he laughed, and I barely restrained myself from hitting him. It surprised me, because I'm generally not a violent person. Rosalie wasn't nearly as collected as I was though. She lashed out, landing a nice right hook on his left cheek, her ring leaving an indent. He fell, swearing loudly, and Rose just smirked down at him. A couple other guys rushed over to help him, asking James, as we learned was his name, if he was okay. He just swore at them, and stumbled to his feet.

The corner where the four boys from before sat was loud, as they were all laughing hard, the big one going as far as rolling on the (once again) filthy ground. It brought a smile to my face, to know that the entire team wasn't behind this James guy. That at least some of them had a little sense.

Rosalie flipped her hair over her shoulder, and stalked out, letting the glass door close behind her. I hurried after her, catching the door before it closed completely, and paused, glancing over my shoulder. Alice was coming, but she stopped in front of James, giving him her sweetest smile, dazzling him. He blinked, and she swiftly kicked his knees out from under him, sending him to the floor again. She darted towards the door, winking at me as she passed, and I sighed. I followed after the two of them, wondering how I ended up with such crazy friends. Before the door closed, though, I could hear laughter coming from inside, and I smiled.

Nice to know.

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**So...? Review and tell me what you think! All the outfits are on my profile. Or they will be soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's Chapta 2. Like, I said, I won't be updating BOG regularly, so sorry for any inconvenience. . . :) I just decided to write on this one after watching a totally corny and impossibly predictable figure skating show this afternoon, so I guess you guys get and update. Everyone thank Disney now!! LLC**

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**Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!! Love to you all!**

**Disclaimer: I was not actually in the movie _Twilight_, but I swear Stephanie Meyer was. . . oh, also, any recognizable characters in the following fic are, unfortunately, not mine. Boo. :(**

**Kisses, **

**{--Inky--}**

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Ch.2 Undeniably

I dropped my bag in the entryway, and hung my coat up. Rose had dropped me off at home, and I was sure that I was home alone. Phil had a little league game to coach, then a lecture on Shakespeare down at the community college. Renée was supposed to be helping out down at the daycare where Phil's daughter goes. You can imagine how surprised I was to find my little half-sister Rebecca sitting on the old couch, watching _National Geographic Explorer_, snacking on a batch of cookies I had made in the little bit of time I spent at home last week.

She smiled her gap-toothed smile up at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. Rebecca wasn't that bad of a little sister. She didn't bother me, and she respected my personal space. She never messed with my sewing machine, thank God. I felt a little bad leaving her here to deal with Renée all day, but there was no way I was going to let her tag along to my practices, although I'm sure she would be ecstatic to go. She loves skating almost as much as I do.

"Hey sweetie," I greeted her, plopping down next to her. "Why are you home? Where's Mom?" Rebecca shrugged, her blond curls bouncing on her shoulders.

"Dunno. She left,' she replied, looking up at me. I frowned. It wasn't unlike Renée to just run off, forgetting everything, but she usually remembered her kids. Or half-kids, in Rebecca's case.

"Do you know where she was going?" I pressed, a little worried now. Rebecca just shrugged, turning her attention back to the TV. I watched her for a minute, waiting for her to remember suddenly, but she never even glanced at me. Sighing, I stood and headed to the kitchen. If Renée was missing in action, I was going to have to make sure that she was looked after tonight. I thought briefly about phoning out usual babysitter, but decided against it. We were already hard-pressed on money without unnecessary extra costs. I finally decided I would have to call Alice and tell her I couldn't come to our weekly slumber party for the gossip session, or to get that math help I desperately need to not flunk the semester.

She was just going to have to deal with Rosalie's rant about the shared rink time on her own. As I waited for her to pick up, I fervently hoped that Alice was fully stocked in Rocky Road ice cream. For her own sake.

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I knocked on the heavy oak door, glancing down to Rebecca, who was attached to my hand and staring at the many trophies lining the halls proudly. Her eyes were wide with admiration looking at the portraits of Frederica Cole posing with bouquets and medals from over the years.

I heard Frederica call faintly for me to come in, so I twisted the door handle, tugging gently on Rebecca's hand to get her to come in with me. She complied, and the two of us slipped inside, me closing the door almost silently behind us.

Frederica was sitting at her desk, her pen scratching away on some new form for something or other. Her honey blond hair was pulled high into a pony, and she looked up, smiling warmly when we entered. She looked so much younger than forty when she smiled.

"Ms. Swan. What can I do for you this morning?" Frederica folded her hands under her chin, staring at me expectantly. I cleared my throat.

"Well, Miss Cole," I started, trying my best to sound gracious.

"Freddie," Frederica insisted. I stopped myself from sighing at her.

"Right. Sorry," I carefully skirted around calling her Freddie. I had this thing about calling coaches by their first names; it always felt so weird. "I was wondering about if you would be okay with my little sister coming with me to after-school practice. My parents are both working," I lied. No need for her to know that my mother was being her usual flaky self and had gone missing in action. "And she can't be left alone. She won't be any trouble. Right?" I looked down meaningfully at Rebecca, who smiled sweetly at Frederica. I had already told her if she was a good girl, she would get to come see me skate. That totally made her day, and encouraged her to ham it up for Frederica.

"No trouble," she sang, playing up the part of adorable little five-year-old. Frederica smiled back at her.

"Of course that's okay, Bella. She is a sweet little thing, isn't she?" she cooed.

"Um, yeah, she is. I need to go get ready for practice before Anne busts my butt. Thanks Miss Cole!" I threw over my shoulder, already half-way through the door, dragging Rebecca along with me.

"Freddie!" Frederica called after me, but I ignored her.

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I burst into the change room, sending the door swinging into the concrete wall and scaring the crap out of Rosalie, who was trying to apply some mascara in the crappy mirror hanging on the east wall.

"Shit, Bella!" she swore at me, attempting to wipe off the big black line she had drawn across her cheek. I stifled a giggle and moved over to drop my bag on one of the benches set up along the far wall, pulling out my dark purple skating dress, slipping it on along with my over-the-boot tights and grabbing a thin black sweater. Rosalie watched me through the mirror, scoffing at my choice of apparel. I let my inner second-grader out and stuck my tongue out at her, wrapping my hair up in a pony, side bangs and all.

"Why are you putting make-up on at all, anyways? Alice and I have both seen you completely covered in mud, so you really shouldn't worry about looking good for us," I quipped, leaning down to lace up my skates.

"Okay, first, that was not mud, if you know what I mean," she retorted, wiggling her perfectly plucked eyebrows suggestively at me. I grimaced, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Her grandpa had a farm just outside of town, and he liked to enlist Rose to help him muck out his enormous stables. Rosalie had showed up on Alice's doorstep one Sunday night, covered in what looked like mud. I guess it wasn't actually mud, but it's not like horse crap is any better.

"And second, apparently the hockey team is sitting in on practice today and I want to look good." I opened my mouth to why she would want to look good for the guys who thought she was a total bag, but she carried on, interrupting me. At least she answered my question.

"There were a few cute guys in the lobby last night that weren't backing up Asshole James." She scowled at the name James, as I'm sure she's been doing since meeting him. Rose had a tendency to hold grudges, and call people she's mad with by condescending names when she talks about them. It's actually quite amusing to listen to, assuming you're not the one she's talking about.

I laughed at her, breezing my way out of the change rooms and up to the stands where I had placed Rebecca and her bag of stuff. I knelt down in front of her, one hand on either side of her, palms flat on the seat. My black nails stuck out drastically against the bright red plastic.

"You excited?" I asked, unnecessarily because she was practically vibrating in her seat, the biggest smile stretching across her face. She nodded vigorously, the two pigtails I had managed to put in her hair before she ran off this morning bouncing up and down.

"You just have to keep quiet, and you can't run around, okay? The bathrooms are straight down that hallway," I pointed to our left, towards the doorway next to the closed canteen. "There are snacks in your bag, and a couple of juice boxes. Try not to spill all over." She patted the pink knapsack sitting on the seat next to her.

"Got it," she agreed, sticking one end of a pigtail into her mouth to suck on it. I had noticed she tends to do that when she gets nervous of excited. I was guessing she was more excited than nervous today.

"Okay. You'll be alright?" I asked, and she nodded, rolling her eyes. She learned that from me, definitely. I chuckled and ruffled her hair playfully. "See you sweetie." Then I jogged, as well as I could in skates, down the stairs and to where Alice was stretching before getting on the ice. She appraised my dress, eyes approving.

"Nice color. Bella original?" she commented, raising her eyebrows.

"You know it," I laughed, pulling my guards off and stepping gracefully into the ice, sighing as I did. I was famous for making my own clothes. I scoured fabric stores and flea markets for useable material, saving money by designing and sewing most of my wardrobe. My parents couldn't afford to pay for dozens of fancy, brand-name skating apparel for me like Alice and Rosalie's parents do for them. There was nothing the pros could do, that I couldn't duplicate for less cash. It's all a matter of technique, and this way, I can make things fit the way I want them to, no hassles.

I rotated so that I was doing backwards crossover around the centre circle, my arms out for balance and my knees bent a little. I was concentrating really hard, focusing on my footwork, so I didn't hear the clapping coming from in front of me. I looked up, searching the stands for whoever was applauding my completely insignificant warm-up; finally locating them, sitting in the bleachers together in a huddle, huge mocking grins plastered on their faces, made me scowl. It was a group of about eight boys, a few I recognized from the lobby yesterday. Asshole James, as Rose affectionately calls him, was sitting near the centre of their huddle. I straightened, suddenly realizing what they were grinning about.

With me half bent over like I had been, they had a perfect view straight down my shirt since my cardigan was undone. Now, if this had been happening to Rosalie, she probably would had wiggled her chest at them and carried on, but I chose to display a little more dignity than that.

I flipped them off, turning away to do some simple jumps off to the side. Alice took centre ice, doing the same as I had been doing, only with not nearly as much flashing. Rose joined us after a few minutes, looking absolutely radiant with her honey hair flowing down her back in a half pony, contrasting with the white and jade material of her dress. There was no way anyone would ever be able to tell she had spent hours fixing her hair and make-up; it all looked so natural. I envied her just a little bit.

Anne stepped out onto the ice, barking out orders to the music booth into her walkie-talkie. I immediately stopped, watching her as she floated across the ice towards the overhanging booth, her voice becoming snippier as she got closer. A vague shape was fumbling about behind the glass, looking about as coordinated as a drunken monkey in a blindfold.

"Come on Levi. You just plug the cord into the blue hole. It's really not that difficult," Anne sighed, exasperated. The person on the other side replied, static crackling through the speakers, making it hard to understand what they were saying. Anne frowned, turning her head to glare at the group of boys who were still whistling and jeering at us. They quieted, ducking their heads like little school boys. I didn't blame them. I had been on the receiving end of more than a few of Anne's glares, and let me tell you: it's not a real picnic.

"Alright, start the machine, but don't hit play, okay?" Anne asked, watching the booth. The guy inside gave her a thumb up, which she could barely see through the glass, and she nodded at him. Then she turned to us.

"Ladies, today I want you to run through you're routine's, just to make sure you know what you're doing. We'll start with Rosalie." Anne instructed, and then stepped off the ice, gesturing for me and Alice to follow her. We obliged, settling ourselves in a row of bleachers front row. Anne gave the order to run the music to Levi in the booth, and Rosalie held up one finger for Anne to wait. Anne sighed, telling Levi to hold on, and nodded her permission to Rose. Rosalie hurried over to the duffel bag she had left and pulled out a black fedora, flipping it gracefully onto her head. She winked at us as she passed and positioned herself in the centre of the ice, holding her fedora over her face, hiding behind it.

The beginning sounds of "Circus" by Britney Spears started, and Rose started moving slowly around in a circle, lifting her hat around her head in an intricate pattern and slowly letting her circles fan out wider until she broke off into a simple drag, pulling up into a sit spin. We all watched as she executed perfect triple axle's and aced her routine with that Rose aggression and fire. When the music peaked, she took things faster and pushed herself, throwing her body into the air fearlessly.

When she was done, Alice and I both stood, clapping and screaming, me wolf-whistling to be cheeky. Rosalie grinned at us, sweeping into a dramatic bow to us and twirling the fedora in her hands as she moved towards Joey. They were analyzing her performance intently, looking for flaws, heads together. Anne gestured for me to get ready to go next.

Alice looked back at me, and I gave her a grimace. She laughed once and gestured impatiently for me to onto the ice. Rose took the seat I had vacated, next to Alice, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily.

I tried to calm my beating heart as I drifted to centre ice, reminding myself that I _knew _my routine and I could do it. "Brick by Boring Brick" by Paramore carried over the ice, and I ducked, spun, and glided out to circle on the back edge of my blades. My entire mind went into competition mode, blocking out the stands, Anne, even the beats of the music. I was inside myself.

I kept my movements smooth with the slower riffs of the first verse, spontaneously throwing myself into a double toe loop when the chorus began. The tempo picked up and my step matched it, spins and choreographed footwork melting together. I aced my lutz, but that wasn't the hardest move I had coming. My arms were changing positions, edgy and supposed to be sharp, emphasis on the music.

The hook came, and I immediately started a regular slow spin, rotations picking up as the music did and turning into a spiral spin, then a camel spin. I hooked my fingers through the blade of my skate and rotated more quickly.

A series of bunny hops carried me out of the donut spin. I circled on the backs of my blades again, clapping my hands with the song. When the vocals cut in again, I jumped easily into choppy backward crossovers. Right before the female vocals joined in, I launched into a triple axel, landing it but not clean. My ankle burning sharply, painful enough to make me want to cry out, yet I didn't waver. I could feel the tears running down my face and freezing there, but I swung into my drag anyway and finished, bent backwards for my fingertips to graze the ice.

Anne was clapping, and I relaxed, falling to one side onto the cold ice, pressing my hurt ankle into it and hoping it would help. Alice's tinkling laugh echoed across the arena, but slowly faded when I didn't get up. I wasn't faking anything this time, and I wasn't being a drama queen.

I think I'd just injured my ankle.

Three weeks away from Nationals.

I was undeniably screwed.

* * *

**There ya'll go, ma peeps.**

**And yes, I am aware I just combined two stereotyped slang-talk types in one sentence. I'm just fearless like that. :P**

**And because I just made you laugh at my retarded-ness, you should review!! **

**Or, you know, because of the story works too. . .**


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